


Vir Vhenas

by Lokaal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, F/M, I will add tags if I think of more but the main ones are here, Inquisitor Twins, M/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokaal/pseuds/Lokaal
Summary: Ceres and Castor had never met anyone beyond their clan. Yet when they stepped out of the Fade, their bodies vessels for beings they didn't understand, they are forced to adjust to an unfamiliar world.They change the face of the Inquisition, and the Inquisition changes them in return.





	1. The Evanuris

There are many, humans, elves and dwarves alike, who do not believe the Old Elven Gods interact with the mortal world. The Evanuris as they are otherwise known are unknowns in the current world of Thedas, half forgotten and set aside by many in favour of the Maker. Even if they are forgotten, they themselves do not forget. 

Following the horrors of the Fifth Blight and the destruction of the Chantry, leading to Mage-Templar fighting, the Gods became concerned. They noticed a small party, lead by the Champion of Kirkwall, release the Elder One. They watched from their World Beyond as he gained power and watched as his plan began to unfold in The Temple of Sacred Ashes. While their influence and sight were diminished in the face of such powerful Andrastian worship, two of the Evanuris extended their powers forward. 

Divine Justinia V died that day, consumed by the magic the Elder One wielded. But when his magic bridged the gape between Thedas and the Fade, he unknowingly gave Andruil and June an opportunity. 

***

The cell was dark, the cobblestone ground slick with the thin coat of slime that came with constant dampness. Ceres tested her bonds, finding the chain unyielding. She bumped the warm hands of her twin brother Castor as she did so, and felt him move in response. He twisted his hands so their fingers could entwine slightly, a comforting gesture in a grim situation. 

A woman, clad in a breastplate with a symbol Ceres didn’t recognize carved into the front, strode into the dungeon complex. The two guards on either side of her held lit touches, providing some light. They were all human. One of the guards unlocked the cell door, and all three entered. Ceres faced the front of the cell and Castor the back, but she felt her brother twist to get a better look at the woman. 

“What happened?” The woman asked bluntly with an accent Ceres didn’t recognize, her hand clenched white around the pommel of her sheathed sword. 

Ceres bit her tongue, deciding how to go about this. She remembered little from what happened, only snippets as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She recalled scenes of chaos; burnt bodies, pillars of smoke, charred stone. 

“You,” the woman spoke over Ceres, now directing her voice to Castor, “What happened?” 

“I don’t remember,” Castor answered honestly. He never could lie. “I’m sorry. Can you tell us anything? Why are we in here?” 

Castor was well-meaning to the core and Ceres sincerely hoped the woman didn’t take his questions the wrong way. 

“It’s–” The woman cut herself off, shaking her head. She turned back, looking the way she had come in. “What do you make of them?”

A figure Ceres had not been aware of stepped from the shadow. Her features were obscured by a hood and her walk was more of a prowl. “The boy is honest, I think. I don’t know about the girl. There is a hardness in her eyes.”

Ceres gave her a thin smile. 

The hooded figure nodded to Ceres before continuing. “My thinking is that they need to see for themselves. It could encourage their memories.” 

The guards removed the chain linking the twins together, but the individual shackles around their wrists remained. 

The twins were guided through the dungeon to the ground level of a hall. As they stepped outside, Ceres could focus on nothing but the sky. The glowing, pulsing blue gash in the sky was like nothing else she had ever seen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Castor shake his head and mumble something beneath his breath. 

_“Listen,”_ a voice, soft and husky, whispered in the deepest corners of her mind, _“Listen to it, and listen to me.”_

At the same time, both Ceres and Castor yelled out in pain. Their hands glowed the same sickly green – Ceres on her left hand and Castor on his right. 

Ceres heard whispers as it happened, unintelligible and distant. She tried to listen, as the voice instructed, yet she could make out nothing. 

_“Do you listen? Trust me.”_

The woman in armour cleared her throat. “We kept you two alive because of those marks. What do you know?”

Castor shook his head vehemently. He wouldn’t lie, but he could refuse to answer. Did that mean he heard a voice as well? 

_“We can close it,”_ the voice reassured Ceres, filling her with comfort. The presence warmed her chest. _“You and I, my brother and yours. We can close it.”_

“Will you take us there?” Ceres asked, her voice steady in the face of the pain pulsing through her arm. 

“I–” The woman frowned deeply and tilted her head to take in the sight of the twins. “Yes. We hoped that, between the two of you, someone would know how to close that thing.”

Castor nodded, his face gone pale. It made his blue Vallaslin stand out. He had always been paler than his sister, having spent more of his childhood inside. He had a talent for crafting. Ceres, she had a talent for hunting. She had roamed the woods with other clan members, but had always been the most skilled. Her mother used to warn her of her confidence in her talents, advising her to be more like Castor. To provide for the clan yet maintain a sense of humility. Ceres struggled with the advice. She had found her calling; she was a killer. 

“I don’t know how,” Ceres straightened her back. “But I believe we can do it.”

Ceres was only half right. 

Following the woman, who they discovered was named Cassandra, the twins realized the devastation of what had happened. The temple was gone. Everyone inside, barring the twins, had perished. Parts of the surrounding forest had been either flattened or was now burning, despite the snow on the ground and the cold mountain air. Demons littered the woods, approaching as soon as the trio was seen. Ceres found an axe, Castor twin daggers – the demons stood little chance. 

They were strange aberrations, unlike anything Ceres had encountered before. She set their unearthliness aside; she pictured them as wolves or bears instead, coming at her with gnashing teeth rather than ghostly or fiery bodies. While wolves didn’t scare her, the sight of the demons caused a chill to crawl up her spine each time. 

As they came closer and closer to the Breach, an uneasiness settled within her. It was different to a simple feeling of disquiet, caused by the unknown. It was beyond that. The quiet voices, the indistinguishable ones, became louder yet no clearer. They spoke no words she recognized in Elvish, and certainly none in the common tongue. She exchanged multiple looks with Castor, and all he did was nod. They understood each other without spoken words. He heard the same. Neither informed Cassandra. 

They met up with a dwarf named Varric and an elf, neither Dalish nor a city elf, by the name of Solas. Ceres did not pay much attention. The voices were near deafening. She felt as though she was being pulled toward the Breach, and that leash tightened the longer she stayed lingering in place. 

When they reached the Breach, Ceres heard nothing but the insistent chatter of these voices. She looked at Cassandra, saw her mouth move, yet heard nothing. Instead she simply walked toward the Breach. Castor was by her side. Through the demons they walked, striding through without seeing or knowing. They were both fixated on the Breach, the green glow of the tear in their reality. Hand in hand, their two hands glowing and entwined, they reached upward. There, beyond the hulking, immense Pride demon which threatened them, they saw two figures. The two figures looked down upon them, and reached with their own hands to the Breach. 

Sealed but not gone, the wound in the sky remained. It was merely tamed for now. 

As the world spun, the twins both fell to the ground. Ceres’ eyes became dark, and the singular voice returned. _“Thank you. But your work is not done yet.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter! I have written the first couple of chapters already and will post them soon. Let me know what you all think!
> 
> The first handful of chapters follows the game somewhat but then won't after that. 
> 
> And the fic's name, "Vir Vhenas" means "Way Home" for anyone curious (thanks, DA wiki).


	2. Haven

Ceres came to consciousness before her brother. She woke in the small room, her mind hazy and her eyes squinting away from the light streaming through windows. Pushing herself up, she sat on the edge of the small, hard bed. Castor lay, oblivious to the world, on a bed the same as hers on the other side of the room. Ceres glanced about, taking in the modest surroundings. Aside from the beds, there were barrels of what she assumed was food and drink, some boxes of tools and kitchen equipment, and bunches of herbs hanging upside down, left to dry. 

There was a basin and thin, old but clean towel in the corner. Ceres approached cautiously, finding the water clear and fresh. She washed her face, and while doing so realized she was not wearing her previous clothes. While she was unconscious, someone had dressed her in simple leggings and a loose blouse, both in a light tan colour. She looked over to Castor; he was wearing much the same. It disturbed her that this was done while she was unaware of it; not for modesty’s sake, but because whoever it was were strangers. If it had been someone of her clan, she would have no issue. But these people, the soldiers and guards, had all been foreign to her. She had only ever skirted around human cities, never entering them. Occasionally they passed by human traders and exchanged goods, but she was never the one to do the trading. Her life had been secluded, she understood that, yet it did not change her disquiet with the situation. 

The Breach had been sealed but not closed. She and her brother had passed into unconsciousness. She hoped that they had only been brought here to recover and would be allowed to leave. There was only one problem; she did not know where their clan was at this current time. 

There was a knock at the cabin’s wooden door. Ceres stepped closer to her sleeping brother, taking a protective stance as the door opened without invitation. 

In the doorway stood a man, with a bearskin wrapped around his shoulders and plate armour covering his chest. His hand rested on the sword at his hip in a way that unwittingly displayed authority. His gaze focused on Ceres after briefly taking in the sight of Castor. 

“I’m glad at least one of you is awake,” he nodded once. Ceres realized she recognized him; he had been present when they were making their way to the Breach. She wasn’t sure when, and she couldn’t recall his name. The voices had been too consuming. “Thank you,” he continued, then stammered when she frowned at him. “For helping, I mean. We couldn’t have sealed what we did of the Breach without you. Both of you.” 

Castor began to stir. Ceres forced herself to relax; if these people wanted to hurt them or imprison them again, they would have done so. “Why are we here?” She asked bluntly. Now they were out of danger, she realized how much of an accent she had. It was from speaking entirely with other elves her whole life – segregated peoples ended up with a dialect of their own. Their use of common was littered with Elven words, and she made a mental note not to use them here. 

The man didn’t seem to know what to make of her directness. “We brought you here –to Haven– to rest. You two both collapsed after using your Marks.” 

Ceres looked down at her hand. “Is that what you are calling it?” 

“It’s not a bad name,” Castor chimed in then stifled a yawn. He sat up on the edge of the bed, and looked up groggily at the man. “We met you yesterday, didn’t we?”

“Three days ago, actually,” the man took a deep breath in. “We were becoming concerned that neither of you were going to wake up, so Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana sent me to investigate.” 

“And who are you?” Ceres questioned, feeling as though she knew the answer. They had been told, she knew, but couldn’t recall. 

The man seemed to think the same, but he gave a forced smile. “Cullen Rutherford. No one here got either of your names before you passed out.” 

Castor grinned and pushed himself to his feet. “My name’s Castor.” 

Ceres eyed Cullen, unsure. He didn’t seem suspicious to her, merely guarded. She supposed she was right now as well. “Ceres.” 

“Well, now that the introductions are over,” Cullen extended his hand to the door, inviting them forward. “I suggest we meet with the others. They will want to know you’re both awake.” 

Haven was bustling with people. Many ragged and cold, eking out a living amongst the other refugees. There were common folk of all ages, from wailing children to hunched elderly. The fires they huddles around provided little heat as they held their hands up to them in desperation. There were also soldiers, clad in armour and wandering among the rest. Ceres didn’t like their air of authority. She spotted some people in white and red robes, and wondered what significance they had. They too had some sort of authority to them.

Haven’s Hall was one of the largest buildings Ceres had ever seen. As they entered it, she marvelled at the dark wood pillars and curves of the ceiling above. She soon had little mind for focusing on the architecture; three women waited in a room at the end of the main hall. Cassandra and Leliana were there, along with a woman they would soon learn is named Josephine. Cullen introduced both Ceres and Castor to them properly. 

“There is a rumour circulating,” Cassandra took a deep breath in, as though preparing herself. “From those who found you two at the Breach originally. They saw the figure of a woman. They are calling you the Heralds of Andraste.” She shuffled her feet slightly, uncomfortable. “When you came out of the Breach, was she really there?” 

Ceres recognized the name, but had no clear idea of who Andraste was. Castor evidently felt the same, as he looked at his sister with a puzzled expression. Finally, Castor spoke up, “Who?” 

Everyone in the room was incredulous. Leliana was the first to speak up, and give a brief explanation of the Maker and Andraste. Ceres had most certainly heard the names before, but knew nothing of them. 

“So people think this dead woman was with us coming out of the Breach?” Castor asked, a small frown causing a line between his brows. 

Cassandra winced. “… Yes.” 

Leliana cleared her throat. Ceres saw a glint of amusement in her eyes while the rest of her face remained stoic. “How about we discuss the more pressing matter at hand, Seeker Cassandra?” 

Sighing, Cassandra nodded. She picked up a heavy, old book from the table in the centre of the room. “This, is what we need in order to reform the Inquisition,” she held her hand up before Castor could ask a question, “It is an ancient order that will allow us to regain some… stability, in the aftermath of recent events. We,” Cassandra motioned to herself then Leliana, “As the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, can invoke Justinia’s final writ and form this organization. We would like both of you to join us, in order to close the Breach entirely and restore order.” 

Much of what Cassandra spoke of Ceres didn’t quite understand. She didn’t know what a Right or Left Hand was, and she had never heard of an Inquisition. She knew of the deceased Divine, as that was the woman her clan had sent Ceres and Castor to investigate during the Conclave. She also knew that this would mean not returning to her clan. 

“I want to help,” Castor announced. Ceres elbowed his side and made a hissing sound. 

“Brother,” she said warningly in Elven, before switching back to common to address the rest of the room, “You would have two Dalish join you?” 

“Your past is not a concern,” Josephine spoke, giving a genuine smile. “For us, anyway. There will be some who oppose, but if you help close the Breach, such complaints will be unfounded and easily dismissed.” 

“You two are the only ones we know of who have that Mark,” Cassandra added. “And we have had troubling news of other, smaller rifts opening in random locations. Demons spring from them; they must be closed.” 

Ceres wondered if her voices had an opinion of this. She listened, yet heard nothing. They had been silent since she woke, even the solitary voice she had heard. She needed to talk to Castor about it, alone. 

“I still want to help,” Castor repeated, and looked at his sister. “Please, Ceres. These people need us. I think we are here for a reason.” 

The last sentence was loaded with meaning. Ceres nodded slowly, understanding. “Fine,” she said, “I will help as well, so long as we am allowed a certain level of freedom. No more chains.” 

Cassandra managed a small smile. “Deal. You proved yourself at the Breach already. We have to trust each other for this to work.” 

“We should send out inquires,” Josephine suggested. “Gathering our communal information and decide from there how to approach this. Let the news of the Inquisition settle in for now, then decide our next actions in a few days.” 

Leliana nodded as she began moving around the table, toward the door. “Wise idea. I will begin contacting my people.” 

Cullen got the twins’ attentions. “Haven has an armoury. I can escort you both there, and see what equipment is available.” 

“Yes,” Ceres agreed, “But I would first like a word with my brother.” 

“Very well, I will wait just outside the Hall.” With that, Cullen left, followed by Cassandra and Josephine. 

Ceres turned to her brother, and found him smiling at her. “I’m glad we’re alive,” he said, relief heavy in his voice. “It’s been a weird few days.” 

“Did you hear them?” Ceres asked, and they both knew what she was talking about. 

“I never understood it. Not unless the single voice spoke.” 

Ceres was nodding, recalling perfectly what the voice sounded like. “She was husky and commanding.” 

“She?” Castor was surprised. “I heard a male voice.” 

That was not what Ceres suspected. She had thought they had the same voice; though she speculated they could be the same being, merely with a different voice according to their own genders. “What did he say to you?” 

“He told me that he had chosen me, and that he will guide me.” 

Ceres was shaking her head as she spoke. “That’s not what I heard. She told me to listen and to trust her.” 

Castor bit his bottom lip, thinking. They stood in silence for a time, contemplating what this all meant. “I’m worried,” Castor finally spoke, barely a whisper, “I don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“It has something to do with the Breach,” Ceres gripped his arm, giving it a squeeze. “All we can do is cooperate with these people, and try to understand what is happening.” 

“I was genuine,” Castor looked at her with the kind of passion she had come to expect from her brother. “Something is wrong and I want to help.” 

“I know you do,” she smiled at him, “And together we will help them. But as soon as I can leave, I will.” 

He didn’t seem surprised. He nodded, and together they left the room, going to brave what lay ahead of them.


	3. Adjusting

Castor had never seen a human smithy. It was unlike the Dalish ones –theirs were makeshift and not permanent. Such smiths were perfect for the kind of tools, armour and weapons that were crafted in them. The human smithy was for heavier items, and for more of a mass production. They also had the luxury of having somewhere permanent to set up. 

Nevertheless, Castor was intensely interested in everything the very disinterested human smith had to say. He showed them what equipment he had and somewhat grudgingly answered all of the questions about the forging process Castor asked. Cullen, standing nearby with Ceres, was vaguely amused. Ceres just shook her head. “Brother,” she said, “Come, chose with me.” 

“If you are not working later,” Castor beamed up at the man, “I would like to learn more.” 

“We’ll see,” the smith rumbled and gestured to the weapons and armour, “Now, that’s all I have for the time being.” 

Castor found simple leather armour and a matching pair of daggers. He had been trained in various kinds of weaponry, just like his sister, but he took less interest in it. Duel wielding had been his preferred, but he hoped he would not have to use them much. No matter how good he was, it was still more of Ceres’ domain. 

Ceres tried on some armor, and made dissatisfied faces. 

“Is it not to your liking?” Cullen asked, leaning against one of the beam supports with his arms crossed. 

“Heavy,” Ceres frowned, and at his raised eye brow snarled a little, “I can take it. I am used to Ironbark.” She took one of the two-handed axes. Despite her size, Castor always marveled at how remarkably strong she was. He knew she would win in a contest of strength against him. 

“Ironbark?” Cullen seemed surprised. “Is that Dalish material truly that light?” 

“And strong,” Ceres nodded, giving a swing of the axe. Cullen seemed mildly alarmed about that but to his credit, he did not flinch. Castor shot him a grin. “Our weapons are made from it as well,” Ceres added before setting the axe to one side. 

“I could create some,” Castor suggested. Ceres shot him a dirty look and Cullen stood straighter. 

“Truly?” Cullen said. Even the smith was looking more interesting. 

Castor shrugged and smiled, “I mean, with the right materials. And practice with different tools. I imagine it would be easier for any of your soldiers with less experience, at least the armor. It’s lighter but still strong.” 

“We will organize to get what you need,” Cullen said. He seemed slightly skeptical though pleased with the prospect. Cullen’s attention then moved to Ceres, who now had a bow and was nocking an arrow. “Didn’t like the axe?” 

She looked at him and cocked her head, before pulling the bowstring. She aimed the arrow outside, her body perfectly steady and still as she aimed. She didn’t left the arrow fly, instead releasing the tension and returning the arrow to a quiver. “For fighting,” she pointed to the axe, “For hunting,” she gestured to the bow and quiver, and took a small dagger from the equipment as well. 

Cullen gave a single, acknowledging nod. He then looked to Castor, who simply smiled and shrugged. 

Once the trip to the armoury was over, Cullen allowed the twins to roam freely as he went back to his own duties. From that point, and for the following few days as the Inquisition readied itself, the twins were left to their own devices. Ceres was miserable while Castor was in his element. 

Castor found a place working with the everyday people in Haven. The smith warmed to him somewhat, and he both taught others and learnt from them in the forge. Castor spent much of his time there, but also fixing and making tools for the common people. In his mind, he knew little of healing compared to others in his clan –compared to many of the actual healers in Haven, however, he had great knowledge of herbs and medicinal remedies. Therefore he aided the sick as well, and by the end of the second day most people in Haven knew his name and greeted him warmly. 

Ceres, on the other hand, paced around Haven. She was of few words and found herself less useful than Castor. He had taken a central role in the community, and she wasn’t able to do the same. In the clan, she had hunted almost every day. When she was she was not hunting, she was protecting other clan members as they foraged for food. She was a hunter and warrior, not a craftsman, healer or cook. She struggled adjusting. 

During the third day, Castor was creating a poultice over one of the campfires. Its ingredients needed to be heated and mixed before applied. He was alone as he was doing so, until someone began approaching. 

Varric crouched next to him, holding his hands out to soak in the warmth from the flames. “I’ve got to say, Blue, I’m kinda impressed.” 

Castor laughed. “Blue?” 

Varric gestured to his own face, “The, uh, tattoos.” 

Touching the colours patterns on his face, Castor smiled. “So what would that make my sister? Red?” The twins had the same pattern, merely different colours. His were blue, soft against his green eyes, while Ceres’ were red, contrasting her icy blue eyes. 

Snorting, Varric shook his head. “Hell, I wouldn’t want to call your sister any nicknames. She might take it as a personal offence.” 

Castor could see her from where they sat. She sat outside the cabin they first woke in, which they had made their home for the time being. She was perched atop the stack of wood for the fire place inside, elbows on her knees and staring out into the cold sky. She looked solemn and very unapproachable. 

“Sitting around isn’t her idea of a good time,” Castor tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t hide the worry from his voice. “Once she has something to do she’ll be better.”

“Yeah, well, that should come soon enough,” Varric gave him a cheeky smile. “Or so I’ve heard.” 

“Anyway, why are you impressed?” 

“Ah. Because you, a Dalish elf no less, have managed to get the entire of Haven singing your praises.” 

Castor smiled as he gave the herbs in the small pot a stir. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just, well –it just happened. I wanted to help, and they wanted to accept my help.” 

“You’ve done a lot of good here, upping morale after what happened at the conclave. They needed that.” Varric looked over to Ceres. “You’ve given them a friend. There’s a lot of value in that. What they need now…” he sighed, and focused back on Castor, “Well, they need a leader. We’ll just wait and see what happens, eh?” 

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Castor agreed. 

*** 

Ceres watched the sky, and the shifting grey clouds. It had snowed last night, so a fresh layer of white coated everything when they woke, and it looked as though it may snow again that night. She took a deep breath in, feeling the chill in her nose and lungs, and deeply wished that she could find something to alleviate her boredom. 

“Ceres.” Cullen approached, holding a hand up to her to catch her attention. He spoke again once he had reached where she was, sitting atop a stack of wood. “It seems we’re convening tonight to discuss matters, and moving forward with whatever plan we decide upon. No more sitting around, by the sounds of things.” 

“Hopefully,” Ceres gritted her teeth. She tried to resist questioning him, but her frustration at being stuck in one place was getting to her. “Is this what your fighters do? Sit around and wait for things to happen?” 

Cullen seemed taken aback for a moment. “Not merely sitting around. I’ve been running training exercises the last few days, trying to maintain and develop skills in our men.” 

“They whack each other with sticks.” 

“They are training, developing skills such as parries, guarding stances, watching for opportunities–”

“They are play-fighting. Suitable for children.” 

Cullen breathed out harshly though his nose, calming himself. “What do you suggest, then?” 

Ceres shrugged and looked away, over Haven. “Know what it is like to have real, hot blood on their hands. Fight against someone or something wanting and willing to kill them. Make them survive.” 

“That sounds unnecessary.” 

“Your call, Commander.” Ceres jumped down from the wood pile, landing softly on her feet. “Do you know of game in the surrounding area?” Just talking about it made her itch. She needed to move. She needed to feel alive. 

“We’ve been hunting rams for meat, but it’s driven them some distance from Haven. I wouldn’t recommend going out that far alone.” 

“The Inquisition will be meeting tonight?” She asked, taking the bow and quiver that she had waiting beside the wood stack. She had been itching to do this for days, but only now was going through with it. 

“Yes, at dusk,” Cullen replied. 

It was only midday now. “I will be back by then.” 

Cullen went to say more, but was ignored. Ceres left Haven swiftly. She hadn’t worn her armour –it was easier to move quietly without it– instead opting for high boots, leggings, fur-lined shirt and her fur cloak. She had her dagger already at her hip, and with her bow nocked she disappeared into the forest. 

Being outside, treading lightly through the thick snow, she felt in her element. Castor was comfortable in the small town, surrounded by people. She wasn’t. She felt constricted, suffocated. Here, she was free. Why hadn’t she thought this was a good idea earlier? She had assumed she could be called to discuss Inquisition matters at any time, but instead it had been days while Leliana and Josephine reached out to their various contacts. No, the town was not for her. The open air and dim forest, silent aside from the occasional, distant animal, was for her. 

Cullen had been right; the game had moved a fair way away from Haven. She followed multiple tracks that ended in nothing, before finally finding more fresh tracks. The ram, a hefty male, was nuzzling the snow for growth beneath. Ceres watched him for a time, studying him. She would not kill a young animal, not unless she was desperate or it was injured. This ram seemed to be past his prime, and had probably sired many young in his time. She doubted he could compete with the younger rams now, and would be unlikely to have any more lambs. She had always been taught to take only what is necessary, to maintain a stable balance in the wild. If you take too much, there won’t be anything more to take one day. 

She readied her arrow, and fired true. 

She walked back to Haven, no longer able to maintain stealth with a heavy ram slung around her shoulders. She heard the sound of steps in snow, and heavy breathing. She knew it was not a person. She dropped her prize and pulled out her bow. The wolf had been quiet; not quiet enough. They usually move it packs but if it’s a lone wolf, most likely a young male having been evicted from the pack, he would be hungry. And desperate. When he showed himself, she thought of the demons they fought leading up to the Breach. This was an enemy she knew, unlike them. 

She eventually reached Haven. As she neared the training grounds outside the main gates, many of the fighters stopped and stared. She paid little mind. She kept walking forward, the ram around her shoulders dwarfing her, yet she carried it with no problem. Behind her she dragged the dead wolf. Cullen was standing with his men, watching her with some sort of mixture between open admiration and awe. 

She gave the wolf to the hunters to skin, and the ram to the people around the fireplaces to use. She then cleaned herself up before Castor came to get her, saying that the Inquisition was ready to decide their next action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to make the Dalish more separate from other societies, to explore the way the twins adjust to a new life and new circumstances. In DA lore, certain clans and especially the keepers still have links to the outside world, but to me it makes sense that many of the others, who are focused on their clan only, would feel strange in the outside world. 
> 
> Also the fic will be in mostly Ceres' POV, but glimpses from Castor's POV can't hurt either. 
> 
> Anyway, more on that will come later and please let me know what you guys think!


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